The Empty Shack
by Heterie
Summary: On this California beach in January, we have three individuals. Derek, The Asshole. Carol, The Reliable. And Dante, The Conspiritist. This trio of cliche teenagers are on the search for a supposed dead woman living by the water. They hold no wit, no preparation, and no snacks. Damn meddling kids.


This jacket was too thin. When the wind blew, it ripped straight through the fabric and clung onto Derek's skin. He sat there and watched the beach flow out on the sand and pull things into the sea. It was too cold out here. He didn't want to be here. He hated the beach. Why couldn't it stay still?

A crunch of soft steps behind him. He didn't turn to see who it was. Carol plopped beside him in the sand and inhaled at the cold breeze. It seemed leg warmers didn't do any good for her either.

"You ready for tonight?" She nudged his shoulder.

"Meh." Derek wasn't in the mood for conversation.

She tucked a streak of brown hair behind her ear. "Dante should have been here. You didn't see anyone else?"

Derek shook his head. Dante wasn't the type of guy to be on time. He almost missed high school graduation. "The neighborhood cat needed help with something," he had said.

"Haven't heard from him since the meet up. Didn't he say he was going to bring snacks?"

Carol zipped her jacket up. "I thought you were bringing the snacks."

"Oh great. Well that means there's gonna be no snacks."

"Hey, this isn't about snacks. This is about a spooky adventure." She nudged his shoulder again. "We're going to find out the truth. The truth about this beach. Aren't you excited?"

To be completely honest, Derek stopped believing in ghost stories when he was a kid. Dante and Carol were scary movie fanatics and were always dragging him along on these spooky adventures. Except they didn't have a cool van, a cool half-talking dog, and they weren't all that smart. Yet here he was – on a cold beach, with no snacks, trying to find out if an old lady still haunts the shack by the coastguard station.

Derek thought about getting up and then decided against it. He didn't want to touch the cool sand.

"Don't you think it's a bit impossible? The old lady story, I mean. That some random woman liked to cast spells on residents that stepped on the beach? People come here all the time. Nothing happens."

"Still a nonbeliever, eh?" Dante had arrived in all his glory, standing before them wearing an all green jumpsuit and holding no snacks.

Carol stared. "Not in that outfit, no."

Dante threw his arms up. "It's so I'm visible. Like what if we get separated or something? I'm bright so you'll be able to see me. Didn't I tell you guys to wear something bright?

"Didn't we tell you to bring snacks?" Derek asked annoyed. He shifted to stand up – ignoring the breeze scraping over his ears. Rising over Dante, he glanced down to the illustration on the suit. A flying saucer. Of course.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I forgot and I was in a hurry and—"

"Save it. It's okay. We'll just go to the shack and ask the dead lady for something to eat." Carol chimed optimistically.

Dante stared down at her. "I can't tell if you're serious."

She stood up and wobbled, brushing the sand off the back of her pants. "Really though, are we ready to go? It's already dark out. I don't want to be too creeped out."

"Sure, sure. Where's north? We're supposed to head east." Dante circled around for a sign.

"I'm pretty sure that's east. The coastguard station is right there." Derek nodded to the gray building about 200 feet down the beach. In the dark, it looked older and smaller. Not the ideal safe haven it was supposed to be.

"Oh. Well lets head on then." Dante took off with a fast step, which Carol tried to keep up with. Derek trailed behind, keeping his eye on the trail next to the station. Down there is the shack; or what's left of it at least.

"You wanna know why they call her The Witch?" Dante yelled ahead. "Cause she was hanged during the Salem Witch Trials and people claim to still see her. Not like the big nose and green skin though. Like a normal old lady. That's what makes her so scary. She's like a ghost-demon or something; still out for the world after they turned against her." His voiced deepened to provide a creepy tone.

Carol stumbled up behind him apprehensively. "Dude, the Salem Witch Trails were hundreds of years ago somewhere in the middle of Massachusetts. We're in California."

Derek snorted. "Some crazy witch, huh? What, did she move after her hanging to get some fresh air?"

Dante looked back and sighed. "You nonbelievers. She's the reason why 6 people have went missing when working at the coastguard station. They got freaky evidence."

"Yes, but they couldn't prove it was her."

"Look, you'll see. All we have to do is just see if she's there."

"Are you that desperate for a girlfriend?"

"Oh my god, get off my back, Derek."

More crunching of leaves in the sand that led them straight to the shack. They could see old plastic bottles wedged in piles that held the coastguard logo. The breeze became sharper. Cutting them like ice in their veins. The creaking of old boards finally led them to their destination. An old shack without a roof. It was obvious that people have been here – just not recently. The roof had caved in along with rotten palm trees. The door way was still there but it held no door. Just a pitch black opening. And it seemed the breeze of the sea was being sucked in through the frame. "Welcome, please enter," it beckoned.

This is where Dante's courage ran out. He stopped a-ways in front of the place, kicking the sand as a nervous tick. "So," he drew the word out quietly, "who's going in first?"

Carol stopped next to Derek and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She made a sound of questioning, then became quiet again. A heavy silence fell.

Derek looked between them and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well let's not all go in at once." He drawled.

He then breathed and walked forward.

"Wait, Derek please be careful." Carol whined.

His shoes hit the porch quietly and he stared into the dark doorframe. Nothing was visible inside. He was kind of waiting for a silhouette to appear, yet he kept walking. When he stepped through the door the darkness encased him. But he was okay, Derek wasn't afraid of the dark. He wasn't afraid of the shack or the supposed lady inside. He was on edge because of the feeling he had. Something that nagged in his gut.

Instinct.

On the outside, Dante and Carol stood waiting for Derek. They waited for a full minute; hearing him walking the whole time. Carol then asked again if he was okay and was prepared to go in herself. But then they saw him appear on the porch again, a grin on his face.

"Not worth it. You walk in and the shack ends. It's tiny. No ones in there." He hopped off the step and looked at her. Then glanced over at Dante and shrugged. "Show's over?"

So they left disappointed yet relieved.

They shut the beach down after that chilly night. "It had become too littered," the explanation was. However, the people of that town knew exactly why they closed the beach off. The next morning, the news was reporting a missing teenager by the name of Derek Rodriguez; last seen on January 21 at 11:24pm. The two witnesses in question had commented they had tried to contact him the next morning and he was nowhere to be found.

The shack still stands today, empty as ever.

* * *

**I honestly hate this story. It's kinda boring and it was dialogue practice. I'll go ahead and post it anyway and keep working on it until I'm satisfied. It was a school project ages ago. **

**Thanks for your time. **


End file.
